


Nesting

by darthjamtart



Series: Questing [1]
Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:32:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthjamtart/pseuds/darthjamtart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenzi’s telling this story a little differently, if anyone asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nesting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fleete](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleete/gifts).



Kenzi is thwarted in her intent to make coffee by the giant bird perched on top of the coffeemaker. It’s easily three times the size of the machine, and actually looks quite striking against the black plastic perch, all red and orange feathers glinting gold in the morning light. “Bo!” she yells up the stairs. “Your stupid bird is seriously hindering my caffeine fix!” There’s no response, so she gives the bird a warning glare on her way out. “Don’t think I’m bringing you anything from Starbucks,” she says. The bird doesn’t seem concerned.

The bird is still there when she gets back, now watching Bo sharpen a scimitar. “Kenzi, did you...” Bo says, and then trails off, staring at Kenzi’s Starbucks cup. “Is that coffee? Did you bring me one?”

“My coffee,” Kenzi says, hunching protectively over the cup. The bird gives her a disapproving look.

“Oh,” Bo says, and Kenzi relents, sighing as she pours half the contents of her cup into an empty and probably-clean mug.

“I was going to ask,” Bo says, after she’s exchanged her newly-sharpened weapon for the coffee mug. “When did we get a bird? And how long is it staying?”

“I thought it was yours,” Kenzi says, and they both pause to stare at the bird and sip their coffee. The bird stares back. Kenzi tilts her head. “Fae?” she asks.

The bird somehow manages to look offended. It shakes its feathers imperiously, sending up a brief shower of sparks.

“Fae,” Bo confirms, sounding glum. The bird settles back down on the coffeemaker and shows no inclination toward leaving anytime soon.

“Well,” Kenzi says, after a moment. “We could always get a new coffeemaker.”

***

Hale swings by in the afternoon with a _thank you and I’m sorry_ present for Kenzi, part of his ongoing attempt to be less of an “Ashhole” — Kenzi’s word, and one which he mostly didn’t deserve, not that she’s going to admit that any time soon. Not when the groveling is going so well.

“I’ve got meetings all of tomorrow, but Friday night, the Dal, pool tournament, you and me, the dream team,” Hale starts, and then stops short, staring into the kitchen. “When did you get a firebird?”

“This isn’t going to be one of those things I loved as a child that turns out to be terrible and deadly, is it?” Kenzi asks, suspicious. At least she pretty much knew what she was getting into with Baba Yaga. She’s not sure how she might fit into the firebird’s story. She narrows her eyes suspiciously at the firebird. It ignores her.

“Depends,” says Hale, and that was really not what Kenzi was hoping to hear. “Firebirds are supposed to bring you all kinds of good fortune, but only if you acquired the bird through some sort of quest. Otherwise, uh.” Hale squints at the firebird, then takes a dramatically large step away. “You should really think about getting rid of it.”

From across the kitchen, the firebird fixes Hale with an angry glare. Hale raises his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“We’ve tried,” Kenzi says. She stares longingly at her beloved coffeemaker. “I think it’s nesting.”

The firebird preens delicately, and makes a surprisingly unpleasant chirping noise. Kenzi gives it the finger.

***

***

“I have an idea,” Kenzi says, and Bo looks up from the pile of weapons she’s been sorting through.

“For killing that underfae I’ve been tracking all week?” Bo asks.

“No, for getting rid of the firebird,” Kenzi says. Bo brightens up anyway.

“Does that mean we’ll get our coffeemaker back?” Bo asks.

“Probably not,” Kenzi admits, and Bo turns back to the weapons with a scowl. “Also, you might want to hide anything valuable, just for the next couple days.” They both glance around the apartment, then Bo shrugs.

“Eh, it’s not like we really have anything worth stealing.”

“Except the coffeemaker,” Kenzi reminds her.

“Right,” Bo says. She looks sad again. They both look toward the kitchen, where the firebird is curled up in its coffeemaking nest. It’s glowing faintly against the late evening gloom.

“We’ll get a new one,” Kenzi says encouragingly.

“We can’t afford another one that nice!” Bo says, and she’s almost _pouting_. Kenzi rolls her eyes.

“Fine. Hale will get us a new one.”

Bo turns back to her weapons, consoled.

***

Kenzi leaves the largest feather she’d managed to pluck from the increasingly irate firebird outside Dima’s apartment. Then, just in case, she makes sure to leave an easy-to-follow trail of golden feather-fluff all the way back to the apartment. Dima’s not the brightest of her relatives, or even the one most inclined toward theft, but he is a youngest son, and that has to count for something.

She spends the night playing pool at the Dal with Hale, then crashes on Trick’s sofa. He cleans glasses disapprovingly in her general direction until she leaves, hungover and undercaffeinated, at the crack of dawn.

The firebird is gone when she gets home, along with the coffeemaker. It’s what she was expecting — in the stories, the questing hero always had to take the bird in a very specific cage — but it’s disappointing nonetheless. Still, at least they have their kitchen back.

***

A week later, Hale succumbs to Kenzi’s sadface and buys them a new coffeemaker. Kenzi stumbles into the kitchen and bumps into Bo, who’s staring at the espresso attachment and something that Kenzi thinks might be a steam pump.

There’s a manual on the kitchen counter. They both give it a considering look.

“Starbucks?” Kenzi asks.

Bo sags in relief. “Starbucks,” she says, and they head out the door, almost ready to take on the world. Just as soon as they get their coffee.

***

***

**Author's Note:**

> The picture of the firebird is from Ivan Bilibin's illustrations (late 1800s).


End file.
